


Chess Pieces

by floren8



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Depression, Implied Relationships, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-05
Updated: 2012-04-05
Packaged: 2017-11-03 02:49:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/376267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/floren8/pseuds/floren8
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was the chess set to be more precise, that set the memories off, like a trigger of some sort. It was exactly like they had left it, with the whites two moves from checkmating the blacks. The irony wasn’t lost on him either.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chess Pieces

He hadn’t realized it until much later, because while in the hospital there was always something that grabbed his attention before he had time to think about it too much. He guessed they were doing it on purpose, his students and, well, Moira. Trying to keep him occupied so he wouldn’t think about it. And it worked.

The realization came back _home_ , back in Westchester, back in the room they spent many late nights playing chess and drinking Scotch. It was the chess set to be more precise, that set the memories off, like a trigger of some sort. It was exactly like they had left it, with the whites two moves from checkmating the blacks. The irony wasn’t lost on him either.

He didn’t dare approach it, telling himself there was nothing to see there, nothing left of the man who used to sit across from him with a smirk and a turtleneck. Oh, and now there was no holding it, the colour of those eyes and the smooth feeling of that hair on his fingers. A smile tugged at his mouth, and if it looked a bit insane there was no one to see it, was there? No, there were only the chess pieces, black and white, bad and good.

Those memories triggered others as well, like golden hair against green grass from when they were children and she used to beg him to take her to the meadow in the woods. From a time that he had run from all his life and now, with her gone, maybe forever, he wished he could go back and try to make everything right. How many people would he lose before he learned his lesson? He tried to mend everyone, but maybe what he had to learn was that sometimes, they didn’t need him to.

Still, he erased Moira’s memories of them, all of them. For her safety, yes, but also for _them_ , the two people he loved the most, to keep them _safe_. And it was times like this that he would remember that they might not need him to protect them, or not even want him to, after all they had always been strong and brave, so very brave. He was the weak one, he was the one that _needed_ them, he realized, and not the other way around that he had always seemed to believe.

Too late for that now, he smiled that insane little smile that always made Hank want to step away from him and study him at the same time, too late to _need_ them back. He’d have to make do with the memories, the green eyes and the blue skin that haunt his dreams. It’s all right, he supposes.


End file.
